Scaling Pagodas
by blind-alchemist
Summary: NiChu in Two and a half Acts.


"Scaling Pagodas"

NiChu in 2 and a Half Acts

Dedicated to my dear **Hasegawa**~ genius, artist, author, biochemist, and all-around extraordinaire. You rock! Thank you for your wonderful stories, for your kind encouragement, for your warm advice, and most of all for your deep friendship!

Many thanks as well to the inspirational minds behind NiChu: *Dreams of Destiny,* Gisette, Hikari Kami, Ka-yakusoka, and of course a special -shout out- to my little buddy Kecen!

ACT ONE: A Segment of the Boxer Rebellion (1899-1901)

He truly despises being a nation sometimes, being dragged to deliver the kind of news that compels even the most hardened followers to renounce their humanity. Before wrapping up his speech, Ludwig lets his eyes roam freely out the window, at the procession of figurines lining the outer palace roof, led by a crumbling stone imperial dragon.

"You think they are playing games, Yao? It's out of my hands." His clear blue eyes flicker to Yao's impassive face after formally informing him of the newest agenda issued by the newly re-organized German empire, thus officially terminating their original contract.

Yao keeps his eyes trained to the inkwell at his desk, where they have been focusing for the past ten minutes.

_Bang_!

As though on cue, the door flies open. Great Britain saunters inside. A Lee-Metford rifle is slung across one shoulder; a military-issued backpack is suspended from the other. His boots hammer loudly against the granite tiles as he makes a beeline towards Germany and China.

_Thud…thud…thud…._

Ludwig's voice is gruff. "I personally was against selling you out, Yao. If it is any consolation whatsoever, I'm sorry."

_…thud…thud…thud…._

Yao finally glances up at the impending figure. His eyes are heartbreaking.

"Ludwig-" Yao trails off as Arthur smiles at him—a not very pleasant smile, and emitting an air of dark triumph. "Tian-aru," Yao exclaims, his demeanor suddenly cracking, "do you have any idea what he's going to do to me?"

Long, black, silky hair… brittle golden eyes…

Arthur was ready to fuck a certain long-haired Chinese nation into the floor, the wall, the desk, or the seat, anywhere; as it didn't matter very much to him where it was at the moment, as long as it was somewhere.

Ludwig ignores Yao's questions, but dips his head down before intoning, "It was a pleasure doing business; thank you for your cooperation." He turns to Arthur in a more businesslike manner, "I'm only upholding our end of the agreement, Arthur. I get Tsingtao."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Yao demands.

"Tsingtao is yours," Arthur says, not taking his eyes off Yao.

"Get out of my house! Right now!"

They look at him. "I told you this wouldn't be easy," Ludwig sighs, turning directly towards Arthur. "You know what to do."

"You got it." Arthur leers. "I love typing up Chinese boys."

Yao pushes from the desk and bolts, but Ludwig is faster. Startled, Yao fights briefly, getting his hair tie snapped loose in the process, but is promptly dragged to one of his own bedrooms.

"Let go of me!" Ludwig twists his arm harder behind his back.

"He'll look better that way too." Arthur throws down his pack and rifle as Yao lands face first onto the mattress. "Ugh!"

Climbing onto the bed, Arthur seizes Yao's small pointed chin; it seems to fit perfectly in his hand. He runs his thumb across Yao's lower lip, pulling his face closer to his. Yao hocks and spits in his eye.

"Ludwig, get me the rope." Arthur keeps a firm grip on his throat and wrist, recalling how he had Yao pinned and forced-drugged repeatedly until he'd become almost unable to function without opium. The sight of his anxious face, panting, desperately begging for the costly drug…Arthur shudders and lowers his eyelids.

"_Hurry_." Ludwig hands Arthur some leather thongs as Yao, breathing erratically, watches with wide eyes.

_Crack_!

Stunned after Ludwig sharply backhands him, Yao lays frozen for a moment as Arthur hurriedly binds his wrists together, his thick brows furrowed in concentration.

Once he is secured, Arthur flips Yao over and eases him slowly out of his cheongsam, taking note of the bright tears collecting at the bases of Yao's eyelashes. "Don't cry." Yao gasps as Arthur presses his lips to Yao's collarbone. Arthur closes his eyes as he starts to suck the juncture of Yao's neck and shoulder, taking a brief respite to nibble his earlobe. "You shouldn't be fighting me."

"No! Don't do this! Stop!" Arthur continues his assault on his neck, leaving small red marks on the creamy skin. Yao twists, struggling futilely against the hard cords around his wrists. "May Guan destroy you!" he screams at his captor. "You—"

Arthur growls and lifts his head as his palm presses against Yao's mouth. Ludwig places a bottle of lubricant in his other hand; Arthur snaps it open and pours it freely all over Yao's backside and between his legs.

Yao bites down ferociously on the hand over his mouth, tasting the blood seeping between his teeth. Arthur curses and jerks it away. Straddling Yao's hips, he reaches over into the back pack and produces a hypodermic needle.

"Watch it," Ludwig suddenly says sharply. Arthur gives him a sideways glance as he holds Yao down, inquiring, "What are you still doing here, anyway?"

"Arthur…" Ludwig trails off. Pain blossoms at the base of Yao's neck as Arthur administers the drug. "NO!" Yao screams.

Arthur pushes his tongue into Yao's open mouth, one hand tangled messily in his hair. After several moments, he pulls away, running his hands over the sculpted lines of Yao's torso. "Now this… this is very nice… "

Even in his drug-addled mind, Yao can imagine the sight he must be. Totally nude, hands tied behind his back, shiny black hair splaying all over the pillows, soaking wet between his legs—which are obscenely spread.

"I'm going to split you open. Like a piece of meat…until you _beg_. You hear me, little Yao?"

Arthur holds him down and inserts two lubricant-coated fingers into Yao's ass; they slide in easily with a *_spop_.* Behind him, Ludwig narrows his eyes, and forces them towards the wall.

"No… _no, no_!" Yao's mind feels as though it's swimming against a turbulent current as Arthur caresses the wet gap. One corner of Arthur's mouth starts curling upwards as the large fingers between Yao's legs thrust back and forth, creating a steady, gliding rhythm. The slender body writhes like a snake against the relentless fingers.

"Where's that high and mighty attitude now, little Yao?" Arthur twists around to grin at Ludwig. Ludwig's back is already turned. A moment later, they hear footsteps and the door being slammed.

Yao arches his neck and gives a piercing cry as he is forced into orgasm, curling against the fingers as spots of white explode behind his eyes. The fingers jab deeply, viciously, and are suddenly gone.

He is dragged onto the floor, up by his shoulders, pushed back to lean on his legs. Arthur grasps his sweat-dotted face, reaches into the back pack to pull out another object. Upon recognizing it, Yao violently shakes his head while Arthur squeezes his cheeks until his mouth is forced open. The O-ring is deftly inserted into Yao's mouth. "Now you know what's coming next," Arthur smiles as he lowers the waist of his own trousers.

Saliva starts dribbling down Yao's chin. Dazed, he can barely lift his head as Arthur's throbbing erection is rubbed in his face. The O-ring prevents him from closing his mouth or biting down as Arthur guides himself into his mouth.

Yao fits the tip of his tongue into the slit of Arthur's cock. He licks, hesitantly, and then as Arthur grabs his head, his mouth is fitted over Arthur's engorged member. The beautiful man starts sucking frantically.

Arthur tightens his grip on Yao's silky hair as Yao moves his tongue around the head in slow circles. "Oh yes… just like that…" Arthur pushes his erection deeper down Yao's throat; Yao's golden eyes tear as he holds his breath.

A vague feeling registers that he hates this even as the drug swimming in Yao's veins compels him to focus on pleasing Britain.

"My opiate really did a number on you, huh?" Arthur taunts. Yao whimpers as his head bobs faster. "You're being so nice and cooperative. _Aaahh_!" The beautiful man expertly swallows Arthur's load.

Taking a moment to let his eyes re-focus, Arthur strokes Yao's face, pulling out the O-ring. He lowers him, prostate, towards the ground, and starts to drag his fingers along Yao's spine down towards his ass.

A click sounds behind them, and Arthur turns to find himself facing the muzzle of a .45 Colt.

"What the fuck?"

"Get out."

"Kiku. Are you for real?"

The look on Japan's face suddenly made Arthur very glad he was wearing dark pants.

"W-we're on the same side, dumbfuck!"

Yao starts coughing and Arthur crouches down with him, one arm wrapped around the slender body.

"Stay away from what's mine." Kiku's polite, informative voice is cold enough to freeze a tropical river. "Now, kindly get off him."

Arthur only pulls Yao closer to him. He lowers his lids, smirking. "Are you jealous that I got to fuck your pretty big brother's mouth? YAHHH!"

The single bullet has narrowly missed Arthur's shoulder and buries itself in the wall behind them.

"That was a warning. Next time it'll be your head."

"You can't!" Arthur looks positively frantic as he tightens his grip on Yao. "I have all the posters and pillows. Even a life-size Yao Wang love doll! I was going to get to rape the real thing!"

The smoking barrel is trembling slightly.

"Wh-Why don't you have a go after I'm done?"

Arthur and Yao both watch as the gun is raised point-blank at Arthur's temple, Kiku's finger itching towards the trigger.

Arthur rattles off a string of expletives, crosses the room in three strides and pulls on his shirt in a hurry. "I'll remember this," he menaces, turning the doorknob.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out. Prick."

Yao looks up with glazed eyes at his little brother. "Stay away from m-" one hiccup and he promptly vomits Arthur's essence all over the floor.

Kiku jams his Colt into the holster and bends down to scoop up his brother's limp body. Yao opens his eyes to find himself being carried bridal-style to the bathroom, where Kiku lowers him gently inside the bathtub.

Taking a short knife from his belt, Kiku sets about cutting Yao loose. Once the ropes are off, Kiku puts a hand lightly on his brother's hair. He pauses as he feels the stickiness on Yao's face, and between his thighs.

Kiku's face darkens instantly; at this, Yao jerks to the left as a sharp stab of pain travels up his lower back. Kiku grips Yao's shoulder as he turns on the taps.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got tipped off by a certain German. Are you alright?"

"No." The warm water feels marvelous on Yao's skin. "But you don't need to stay," he says shortly, digging his toes into the corners of the tub.

They sit there in silence. Yao rinses his mouth into a nearby pan while the soothing water starts to ease his aching joints. Finally calming down a little, Yao turns his head towards Kiku to once again request privacy.

The murderous look on his brother's face is still present. "Kiku, you…"

"Please let me help bathe you, Ni-ni."

Yao blinks. "I appreciate it. I can manage by my—"

"I insist," Kiku interrupts with a glare. "He polluted your body, and I have to take care of that."

Yao rises from the tub. In a flash, Kiku is upon him, gripping both wrists in one hand. With the other, he calmly tucks a wayward strand of hair behind Yao's head. It takes every ounce of Yao's willpower to not flinch as Kiku's fingers brush his hair. When did Japan become this strong?

"Di-di, you're scaring me."

Kiku's glare intensifies. "After all I've done for you…"

"Di-di?"

"Just let me help you clean up, you owe me that much, okay?" Kiku's stern eyes seem to bore right into Yao, and Yao finally nods, slowly.

"I've never done this before, so hold still." Yao places his forearm over his eyes, nervous, exhausted, as Kiku turns around for a moment, taking several items from one of the drawers. He places a hand gently above his brother's pelvis.

Yao feels moisture on his groin. Kiku's fingers are suddenly massaging him, slowly and carefully. Yao feels something pulling lightly at the hairs over his groin and realizes it's being shaved clean of hair. He wants to scream and jerk away, but is terrified that the razor will cut him if he does, so he stays perfectly still.

"Shhh," Kiku is repeating, making perfectly smooth strokes.

Yao whimpers, hating, deep down, what Kiku is doing to him. Finally Kiku rubs a warm cloth over the freshly shaved area. He dips his fingers in oil and rubs gently over Yao's now very sensitive pubic area. Every so often, Kiku works the oil around the tip of Yao's member into the spread crack to his ass, then back up to pet the oil into the shaved area.

Yao is utterly humiliated—he would never have done this to himself, he doesn't want to look like a little boy—yet stimulated beyond belief.

Kiku's smoky, impassive eyes never leave Yao's face.

Fingers part the puckered lips of Yao's wet gap, and probe softly, bringing moisture. A moan escapes Yao's lips as precum starts to cream inside the walls of his member. The fingers stop. A warm tongue comes onto Yao's member, licking the juices there, teasing the slit.

Yao's eyes snap open and he starts violently, his heart racing. "Kiku!"

Kiku lifts his head. He licks his fingers.

"Anata ga hoshi," Kiku climbs into the tub, water sloshing onto his uniform. "You're delectable, Yao…"

Yao turns and grips the sides of the basin. Kiku immediately seizes him from behind, one fist full of Yao's hair, the other wrapped around his ribs and pinning his arms to his sides. Fervently, he shoves Yao directly underneath him.

"No! Kiku, stop!" To his horror, Yao starts to cry—for the second time that day. Kiku draws his breath in sharply.

Yao jolts and glances down at his member encircled in one calloused hand. Kiku massages the tip, rubbing the head thoroughly. Suddenly Yao feels heat spreading from the tip, as the oil Kiku rubbed there grows warmer and warmer. Yao's head arches up and back at the sensation this causes.

"Ah…" Yao manages to gasp out. He is angry at the reactions his body is emitting, and reeling from the impact Kiku has on it.

"You are fucking gorgeous when you cry."

"Wh… you're just like them…"

Kiku bristles. "Ni-ni." Yao is wiping away tears; Kiku stops him. "Let me see your face." Yao's eyes widen and he violently shoves his hand away.

"That's not very nice…do you want to get tied up again, Yao?" Kiku's hand probes Yao's backside; the touch sends waves of stimulation through Yao's body. "Do you want this to hurt?"

"You've been doing that for a long time." A tear drops into the water level of the basin. Stunned, Kiku stops his ministrations.

"What was that?"

The tap drips erratically as Kiku clutches his chin.

"Yao?"

Yao's head lolls to the side. Kiku narrows his eyes even as a slight wave of panic hits him. "Who are you to think you can wallow this way?"

Silence.

"Talk to me."

When Yao refuses to respond, even after Kiku gives him a sudden little shake, Kiku forcibly softens his tone even as the dreading feeling persists. "Talk to me."

Yao slowly opens his eyes. Kiku's face drains of color. It's as though Yao is staring right through him.

"What happened?"

"Leave me alone…"

"You need someone to teach you some manners, don't you?" To his utter astonishment, Kiku is hit with the onset of tears. He shakes his head, removing his grip on Yao, who stays perfectly motionless.

Save for the persistent dripping from the leaking tap, a lingering stretch of silence ensues.

Kiku's face is buried in his hand. Something fluffy is suddenly nudged against his lowered head; startled, he looks up. Yao is holding a towel that was previously hanging from the side of the basin.

They look at each other without speaking until Kiku accepts the offering. After wiping his face, he slowly removes his sodden clothes and drops them over the side. Yao looks to the wall, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier tonight, Yao." Kiku embraces Yao closer; his hand drawing slow circles in the small of Yao's back, trying to soothe Yao and himself both.

"I hate watching those Europeans prey on what's mine," Kiku says. "I can't pretend anymore that I don't want to be near you, or touch you… kiss you…make you scream." Kiku shudders in delight at the mental images his wayward mind is clamoring to show him. He pushes them down forcefully, knowing that they'll only return even stronger and more relentless.

"It's my fault," Yao suddenly says.

Kiku blinks.

"I never noticed how you felt."

"Yao—"

"You're not exactly easy to figure out, though."

Kiku's hands seem to have a mind of their own; they keep tracing the dip of Yao's waistline and fondling the skin of his hips.

"_Utsukushii kimi no koto da mono_."

Yao's moist golden eyes are so beguiling they look almost blind. "You've grown so much—"

The water is churning.

"…I wasn't always there, was I?"

"That's enough."

"I'm sorry."

Clutching Yao to him, Kiku is raining kisses everywhere on his face.

"If you want..." Yao shifts his weight so that he is draped onto Kiku's lap. "Please."

Kiku smiles and it quickly dissolves into a smirk. Yao initiates the kiss this time. It is innocent, it is almost hesitant even, but the small, luscious mouth—the fingers grazing lightly down his chest—dissolves Kiku into shivers. The two of them curl into each other in the cramped bathtub, as though this is not strange at all; Yao's lines are perfect, his body a seamless mixture of male and female beauty, and he fits Kiku so, leaving him desperate for-

Kiku feels the other's mouth draws away from his own and moans at the loss. Soft lips outline his unshaven jaw and nuzzle his earlobe. "Do you like that?" Yao is breathless or frightened or both, but Kiku does not care.

It is no trouble to lift Yao fully upwards and have him leaning with his back against the side of the basin. Kiku rubs Yao's shaved pubic area as he suckles the skin around one nipple, teasing the other to hardness between his thumb and forefinger. He doubles his efforts by biting down on one erect nub, kneading and pulling the other.

A mixture of pain and excitement hit Yao with blunt force; he groans shamelessly as Kiku starts kissing the insides of his thighs as he begins to spread them apart.

"Please," Yao breathes again. That simple sound makes Kiku delirious.

Kiku massages Yao's entrance with his straining cock until Yao whimpers and goes taut from shock. He shivers as he guides himself in, attempting to move at a slow pace. It's not easy; Yao is very tight; the warmness around his erection forces Kiku to clench his teeth to delay his climax. Yao buries his face in Kiku's shoulder, but a sharp yank on his hair pulls his head back.

Kiku is licking his lips. "I want to see your face," he says in a husky whisper as he thrusts his hips forward. Yao screams; whether it's from the roughness of Kiku entering him or from Kiku biting down _hard_ on his neck—could easily be mistaken for a cry of pleasure.

"Don't hold back," Kiku warns. He grips Yao's face, hard, until Yao's golden eyes become glassy, more obedient. "Don't bite your lips like that."

Yao emits an ecstatic cry. It's not enough; he only wants to make that sweet mouth scream for more. The flesh underneath Kiku's fingers is smooth, but taut; lean sinewy muscles tensing urgently against him.

Kiku keeps a maddeningly leisurely pace, marveling at how Yao still somewhat imparts resistance—yet there is no denying the aroused expression on Yao's face, and how his thighs have willingly stayed parted.

Water and foam slosh around them, spilling freely from the basin. The strangled cries meld into a more frantic, ravenous tempo.

When Yao comes, semen fast thickening on his taut stomach, Kiku follows shortly afterwards. They lie in silence among the draining water, with Japan still inside.

When Kiku finally lifts his head, he sees Yao's face streaked with tears, his chest heaving.

"Yao?" Kiku draws in his breath, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. The tears flow faster from Yao's eyes, and Kiku, at a total loss for words, can only watch.

"What's wrong?"

The beauty from the land of the setting sun does not reply.

ACT TWO: Two hundred years later.

"It's pretty simple actually." Yong-Soo uncrosses his legs. "Kiku doesn't know how to give Yao what he wants, and vice versa. Both of them understand their own needs and wants perfectly. But for them to meet each other's needs?"

Wan raises an eyebrow. "…For them to even understand the _concept_ that other nations have needs of their own?"

Yong-Soo says, "Some nations are born with, or develop…that concept, that- _awareness_—that other nations have needs and wants. Other nations don't develop it, and I think this applies to our dear brothers. In their own ways, there's no question that they're really smart. But I think they definitely lack that kind of awareness, at least on a certain level."

Wan says, "Both of them. If one of them lacked it and the other didn't, it'd be a different story. Bottom line, they have to work that much harder."

Hong Kong stares.

Yong-Soo continues, "When Yao gets up in Kiku's face, Kiku just doesn't get it. He doesn't know why he's being reprimanded, he doesn't get that Yao is saying "help me," only not using those words. And Yao's expectations for him are sometimes incredibly unrealistic. He doesn't realize that he pushes others away with his demands."

Hong Kong finally opens his mouth. "Kiku. And Yao."

Yong-Soo nods. "I know."

Wan says, "They've always been a weird couple. I want to slap them, because they're supposed to be smarter than this, really."

"They," Hong Kong starts slowly before pausing. "…squabble. A lot."

"It takes two to dispute," Yong-Soo muses, his left eye twitching while his right hand grips his left wrist.

"They're not only quarreling with each other," Wan adds. "They're fighting all the time with internal demons." She stares as Yong-Soo fidgets.

Hong Kong interjects, "It's tragic."

"What's tragic?"

Yao is standing in the doorway.

"Nothing, Ge-ge," Wan says at the exact same time Yong-Soo says, "That tie you're wearing, Yao-hyung."

Yao stares for a moment, and fidgets with his tie.

"What! It's pure silk you know. Made from the finest, liveliest little worms!"

"Only the Chinese," Kiku suddenly interjects, emerging from behind Yao. His pants are unzipped.

Hong Kong and Yong-Soo avert their eyes while Wan, ever helpful, jumps off her stool and whispers into Kiku's ear. The faint traces of a blush are evident on Kiku's face as he excuses himself and steps back into Yao's bedroom. Yao's mouth quirks upwards as he follows Kiku. "Be back later, kids," he sing-songs.

"Yao used to sing us to sleep," Yong-Soo says plaintively the moment the brothers are out of sight.

"Back in the fifth century or so?" Wan plants herself back on her stool. "Back when things were simple?"

"Back then…" Hong Kong clears his throat. "Ge-ge and Kiku-ni really were inseparable. They went through so much together."

All three are silent.

"Yao was everything to Kiku." Yong-Soo.

"And Kiku was everything to Yao." Wan.

Three pairs of eyes turn simultaneously to one of the kitchen mantles. A painstakingly detailed portrait, "Eight View of the Xiao and Xiang River," is propped up next to one of Yong-Soo's exquisite ceramics.

Wan shuts her eyes, sifting through years and years of memories as she recalls how Kiku's brush dipped elegantly into the inkwell, and how his eyes never left Yao's face as he outlined every wave, every pine of the landscape, unfurling across the scroll.

"And when they did align and come together," Hong Kong finishes, "it was Yao and Kiku against the world."

"They could've taken over the globe!"

"It's a good thing it never got that far, else we'd have creepy Shinatty-chan theme parks everywhere," Wan mutters.

"I think they modeled Shinatty-chan's face after yours, Wan."

"Yong-Soo!" Wan shrieks the moment Hong Kong intones, "That was uncalled for, man."

"All right, all right. I was being an idiot."

"What else is new?" Wan ducks the Pocky stick that Yong-Soo flings at her head.

"Dude," Hong Kong shouts, "quit wasting snacks!"

"Anyway," Yong-Soo continues after stuffing the rest of the package in his mouth, "you can't say they're not always trying to patch things up, no matter what happens."

Wan rolls her eyes. "Sometimes I catch myself wanting to believe they fight solely for the make-up sex."

A yowl is heard from the bedroom.

"The important thing is they both freely _choose_ to patch things up," Wan continues, more seriously. "Although, I believe they do have too many mutual investments and too much at stake to lose if they choose otherwise. That's not an insignificant amount of pressure."

"They also know waaaaay too many personal things about one another." Hong Kong.

Wan ticks off her fingers. "Trade, education, cultural exchanges, tourism, food, infrastructure…they fulfill each other on multiple levels, and it only gets more complicated and layered from there. I should know. I'm in on their business meetings all the time."

From behind the closed doors, there's a slap, and a squeal. Some hushed arguing.

"But they have such different communication styles. And they're both too emotional!" Wan looks pensive. "I guess I share that gene, too. But anyway—I know all relationships require a ton of work."

Yong-Soo pours himself another cup of tea. "I can't believe that two decade long break didn't do more for them."

"Who knows?" Hong Kong says shortly. "Maybe that is _how_ they work."

"Yeah, who knows."

"I know I don't get it."

"You know what's messed up?" Yong-Soo shifts. "We're Yao's and Kiku's family. The closest nations in the world to them. And to think that even _we_ don't know how they make it work…"

There's a brief moment when the only noises emitting from the kitchen are Yong-Soo's loud crunching. Wan stares at her nails while Hong Kong absentmindedly clears his throat.

"You know what?" Hong Kong finally says. "I don't think we'll ever know."

Wan looks at the backs of her hands. "We might have ideas, but we're really on the outside looking in. Almost every time we think they're about to kill each other, or declare peace, or invite Alfred for a hot threesome, they completely mess up that theory and do something unpredictable."

She smothers her giggle and directs her attention out the window. "What they have between them, what their relationship is really like…we didn't get it then, all those years ago. We don't get it now, even though we analyze it all the time."

"We will never fully understand," Hong Kong says.

Yong-Soo nods slowly. "Because they're the only ones who _can_."

"We weren't there, or even born, when they first got to know each other," Hong Kong continues. "We're not even around for most of their fighting and making-up."

Wan says, "And not to say the least, but we're not them, either. Even though we know them really well—we're not in their shoes."

"But that doesn't mean we should stop trying to understand," Yong-Soo says. "Even when they brush us off, our speculation and input help."

"And you know what? Maybe neither of _them_ know the whole truth, anyway," Hong Kong finishes.

"But there's something there," Wan says. "They could have totally broken off ties for good about ten thousand times, but they haven't. There's a reason they keep coming back to each other."

"Er… " Yong-Soo shifts his eyes. "Because you can't exactly ignore your next-door neighbor?"

"Heh. What about Alfred and Matthew?"

"Who's Matthew?"

"I rest my case."

Hong Kong opens his mouth. "But Matthew's not Yao-gege's—"

"Yeah, yeah. But I know for a fact Cuba has to remind Alfred every other week not to keep tossing his imaginary neighbor's mail when Vancouver-bound letters accidentally land on Seattle."

"There's something there," Wan says again. "A man doesn't just make hundreds of intricate portraits of someone he doesn't have strong feelings for, even if the interest is vested."

Finally the bedroom door bursts open and Kiku stomps out, a pair of boxers dangling from his head. "Children, we have something to tell you. Your mother and I are getting a divorce."

Three pairs of eyes stare at him.

Kiku's lips quirk up slightly. "Yeah, you're too smart to fall for that. However, after some discussion, we agreed that taking a short vacation every couple of months would be a good idea."

"Kiku wants to go camping," Yao says, clutching a life-size Shinatty doll. "Cheap and near the neighborhood so our cell phones will hopefully still have signal."

Kiku lowers his gaze as though embarrassed by what he is about to say next. "Yao seems to think it will lower our blood pressures."

"Well… have fun," Wan says, as the two retreat into their bedroom to go pack.

"Vacations are always a good tactic for patching things up between couples," Hong Kong says knowingly.

"I know they squabble, I know they have the occasional tensions, I know there's unfortunate sentiments," Wan turns her eyes skyward, "but that's not exactly atypical, is it? That's what to expect between them."

" 'Between them' ?" Hong Kong.

"Why, between family. Between *brothers.*"

There's a brief silence, until-

"There's something there," Yong-Soo mimics in Wan's high voice. "And that something involves a penis and an a-"

"YONG-SOO!"

ACT THREE: Camping. Six months later.

Night descends onto the campgrounds. It is very cold out, and they both know how to get each other warm.

Kiku's chest slaps onto Yao's bare skin, making a striking noise. Kiku thinks of that sound as his favorite music.

They wrap themselves around each other; naked and fitted as if they were one body. "Yao, please don't ever change," Kiku drawls before Yao attacks his lips again.

Kiku plants Yao with a mind-blowing kiss, and then lifts his legs, entering him swiftly in one long tight thrust. From the noises they are making, any wild animals in the district would guess someone was being slaughtered.

The moaning, slapping of bare skin, and screaming don't scare away the German and Italian taking a stroll through the campground though.

Ludwig says, "Those two are at it again. Did you hear that, Feliciano? One of them said, 'get over here and fuck me.'" He pulls at his collar. "Let's get out of here quickly before I start getting horny… I mean, uncomfortable, just listening to them."

"Ve~ hold on," Feliciano replies. "I need to bend over here to pick up my fork which I carelessly dropped while eating pasta. Oh, look at that, my pants came undone. Whatever shall I do?"

Ludwig drops his uniform pants too and starts stroking himself while imagining plunging wetly and deeply into that round ass that Feliciano is determined to tempt him with. Feliciano wets his fingers in his mouth and starts working his hole for Ludwig, getting it moist and ready.

They barely make it to a private spot where they can get it on, fucking quietly so as not to alarm the Asians they'd been listening to.

When they revive and catch their breaths after coming so hard they shook the bench they were laying across, they plop on their backs with Feliciano's head on Ludwig's chest, his small legs overlapping Ludwig's abs.

"Feliciano," Ludwig's voice is gruff, "I enjoy working with you. Make sure we're on the same schedule next month. Is that clear?"

"Ve, Ludwig, you bet your sweet German bratwurst- you got a date. And remember to go commando next time too."

"Thought you'd like that."

"You planned this all along?"

"Who, me?"

The two former Axis powers help pull each other up and stride to their Jeep. They drive off smiling to themselves in the dark cab of the truck.

"I hope those guys are there again next month. You think they will be?"

"Why is that important?"

"How else can I get you in the mood to…to fuck …my ass… ve?"

"Feliciano, you idiot. I'm always in the mood when I see it's you on my schedule."

"VE! Pull over!"

Inside the tent, the two lovers are sleeping; just a light nap before waking to cook a moonlight meal.

THE END


End file.
